


somewhere with me

by EasyPeasyPanic



Series: my darker fics [9]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Hikaku POV, I'm going to tag it as that because Madara isn't thinking straight, It was going to be a while fic but i got bored and just felt like posting it, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyPeasyPanic/pseuds/EasyPeasyPanic
Summary: Madara plans on leaving the village.He wants Hikaku to come with him.
Relationships: Uchiha Hikaku/Uchiha Madara
Series: my darker fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657405
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38
Collections: why im sleep deprived 💖✨





	somewhere with me

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure when i started shipping this but i'm seeing a huge lack of content for it
> 
> i just love uchiha hikaku so much despite having only seen one panel of him and him having no lines at all

* * *

It's too warm of an evening for anyone to be outside their homes. It's a sticky, humid night that was littered with the soft shrill of the cicada and the annoying  _ itch _ of the mosquitos that dance in front of the burning lanterns. 

His (not really his, but he's here enough to consider it his own) engawa provided little relief for the intense, suffocating evening heat, for there was no breeze nor did the lack of sunlight cool the smooth, aged wood. Madara is leaning back, his hands pressed down behind him to support his weight, with his eyes closed, as if he were basking in the heat like it was a familiar comfort. 

(Perhaps it was, but Hikaku wouldn't know of the soul-deep fire burning with the clan he resided in, for he often didn't feel a part of it. He was civilian born, miserably so, the bastard product of a lightning-quick affair between an Uchiha kunoichi and a blacksmith from the Land of Waves. It wasn't surprising for him to somehow reject the need for  _ burning  _ heat that coiled deep inside of his peers and half-cousins and distant family.)

It's much too hot for him. Unbearably so. Hikaku shifts slowly, maintaining his composure, but trying to find a comfortable position on his knees. As if that might alleviate the sweat dripping down the nape of his neck even though his thick brown hair was pulled up in a loose bun, and he wants nothing more than to crawl into his bed with Madara for the night. If only to attempt to try and sleep away the heat, just for momentary relief. 

Madara glances over with a lazy gaze. A gentle tug of his lips into a small smile, though anyone else less close to him might have deemed it a haughty smirk, but Hikaku  _ knew  _ better. He'd been by Madara's side as a valued attendant since he was a boy of five or six summers, first as a peer in learning the art of shinobi, and then as a trusted  _ friend _ , and now as something

_ Else _ . 

Something entirely different. Something closer and more beloved. 

Madara sighs softly, sitting all the way up. His yukata is loosely tied, falling open across his chest in a way that makes the world seem entirely too small and constricting for Hikaku to be blessed enough to live within its confines. He swallows, shifting again, and meets two black eyes in a thoughtful gaze. 

(Something's  _ wrong _ , his mind shouts urgently, a touch of panic settling in his veins like ice water, flooding his body with emotion. But he can't begin to say  _ what's  _ wrong. It's something about his stare, about the unreadable emotions brimming there. Hikaku has never been unable to read his clan leader, even when Madara was a melancholy teenager, even in the worst of situations. This new found helplessness doesn't settle correctly in his stomach, making it twist painfully inside.)

"Can I ask you something, Hikaku?"

Hikaku offers a tight smile, inclining his head. "Of course." He doesn't bother with honorifics, doesn't even bother with the man's name. It's far too intimate to say it out in the open, though he doubts there's any ears lingering nearby. It's far too late and scorching for seasoned shinobi to bother with petty eavesdropping. 

Madara's eyes are dark. They've always black, like molten rock, and shiny and _warm_. Not like this, Hikaku has never considered them dark before, just black, just eyes, and it sends another uncomfortable shiver down his spine. 

Madara's face morphs into a gentle fury. Then they smooth out again like tide against rocks, worn down and softened.

"Are you happy?" He asks gently. 

Hikaku doesn't know how to respond. It's like a jolt of electricity against his skin, sending him flinching back as if the question struck him.  _ Was  _ he happy? With what, exactly? With the new village settlement? Yes, of course he was happy with their new position. It wasn't often that Hikaku could go over their wares and their coffers with pleasure, going over the wealth and supplies again and again to see they've enough money to truly be considered noble. Plentiful food, a rarity that had been more rare than famine to the Uchiha, and a permanent settlement. Warm beds, small children playing by the river without knowing the loss of siblings, women cleaning the laundry unguarded because there was nobody to attack them. It was a small paradise, if Hikaku had ever imagined something like that, and he was far too invested in learning the culture of the other clans to find any faults. 

Or was it a more intimate question? Yes, Hikaku was more than  _ happy  _ to be able to be by Madara's side each day. He found simple pleasures in the mundane life they had drifted into. The sounds of papers fluttering as they worked side by side, the inks stains on their fingers and on their clothing that never faded no matter how much scrubbing was done. The shared lunches and early mornings when the sun rised in Madara's bedroom window, the shared laughter of jokes made at the expense of the Senju, and the late nights where Madara whispered  _ my home is closer _ , even though it wasn't. It wasn't anywhere nearby, but Hikaku never minded the distance. Not when his lips were against his clan leader's soft ones, and Madara's fingers were clawing at his hair tie until his brown hair flowed across both of their cheeks. 

Madara  _ snorts _ , "You're thinking too hard." He brushed a knuckle against the younger man's cheek, and his skin was rough.  _ Rougher _ than it had been, weeks ago, the last time he'd been intimate with Hikaku in his bedroom. "Answer the question. Be truthful."

"I'm happy." He breathed out. He's careful about reaching a hand out to grasp Madara's retreating palm, but the man's face turns him away from touching him. 

_ Wrong answer _ , Hikaku realizes only moments too late, unable to grasp onto the words that hang in the air to rectify the situation. He flounders, trying backtrack. But it's too late. 

Madara's face pinches up in a quiet anger. He bristles, taking a deep breath through his nose, closing off. His eyes are dark (so dark, and not his, but Izuna's eyes and Izuna was never anything but  _ bright  _ and happy) again, simmering with rage and pity, and Hikaku doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't understand much right now, but he isn't hot anymore, because there's a dangerous  _ chill _ spreading through his limbs to  _ run run run _ . 

"Even though Izuna's dead?" Madara asks slowly. A warning, a temptation, just  _ something _ . "You cared for my brother, didn't you? And you're  _ happy  _ even though  he's gone."

"Of course, I cared for Izuna. But loss is a part of life, isn't it?" Hikaku replies evenly, diplomatically. He's always been one to lean towards self-preservation rather than conflict, and there's something not right about this whole conversation that has every instinct on edge within him. 

It wasn't a lie, he had cared for Izuna. They'd been friends since childhood, born only months apart and trained together in the same way that he had been with Madara. While Hikaku had always been more reserved, Izuna has been bright and wickedly playful and just a touch unstoppable, until--  _ until _ he had been stopped. Gone. Body burned into ash and then blown away by the wind. 

Madara's eyes are wide and angry. "He wasn't-- he's not just a loss, he was my brother. Your friend. And you've forgotten him so quickly? You've found happiness in your  _ village _ ." He spits the word out like a senbon off the tongue, coated with cruel poison and made to hurt. Hikaku simmers, his own anger bubbling up inside at the hostility. If he'd known it would come to this, he wouldn't have come--

That's a lie. Hikaku is  _ nothing  _ if not loyal until the end, bound by blood and love, and sealed in by duty. He would have come anyway, if only to try to ease Madara's mind and snuff out his fiery temper. Anything to let him come back to his senses. 

"There's nothing to be done, Madara. We can't bring him back." Hikaku replies cautiously. Then he throws caution to the wind. "And if I may remind you,  _ you _ were the one that agreed to the village." He shifts off his knees just an inch, letting the blood flow into the tired limbs if he needs to move, and Madara shifts too. Comes closer, almost face to face with him. Somewhere in the distance, Hikaku can hear crickets amongst the buzz of the cicadas. There's a dance of lightning bugs across the open court that was made privately for Madara, for his leader. 

Madara's laughter is wretched. Broken. 

"You're right." He says, shaking his head. "But they forced my hand-- all of them, the traitors, the defectors. The  _ Senju _ ." He rambles on, bordering on hysterical. He goes on a tangent about the defectors that ran to the Senju for offered mercy when the tides turned in the war, when starvation was prevalent and medicine was a scarcity and death was imminent sooner rather than later.  _ They forced my hand _ ,  _ the cowards. _ He blames the Hokage for his traitorous lies. He raves over Senju Tobirama and his supposed schemes, his deep hatred for the Uchiha that everyone's beginning to turn a blind eye to, for his role in Izuna's death. 

And Hikaku is just

_ Lost _ . Because only a handful of weeks ago, everything had been  _ fine _ . Happy. Weeks ago, he and Madara were sipping sake from a shared cup, drunken and pleasantly warm, and hurling jokes at each other. Madara had used crushed raspberries to draw lines across his cheeks in imitation of Senju Tobirama, playfully ranting about his uptight nature.  _ A kunai twisted deep inside you know where _ , Madara had said with a pleased wink, and Hikaku had burst into laughter right then until he nearly choked on his mouthful of alcohol. And then he'd kissed him, smearing the bright fruit juice on his cheeks too, and they'd been sent into a new fit. It had been so nice. No anger, no resentment, no distrust over the reserved Senju, and none of this  _ bitter  _ chakra seeping into the pores of anything near Madara. Not too long ago, everything had been alright. 

Nothing was alright now, and Hikaku couldn't begin to explain what had changed. 

Everything had unraveled within minutes. 

"Madara--"

"And they won't even listen to me.  _ Me _ . I gave up--" Madara chokes himself off, shaking. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his eyes flashed red. Blood red, the color that Hikaku was far too familiar with, but his own Sharingan doesn't react in turn. He isn't in danger, even with Madara like this, because he loves him. (Right?) "I gave up everything for them to return my love with disloyalty. With subjugation to the Senju! They voted against me.  _ Me _ ." His voice is wet by the end of his ranting. Madara presses a hand against his forehead, eyes closed against, just shaking his head as if that might remedy the inner turmoil. 

Hikaku understands, partially. He had thought that the man he loves had moved past the election of Hokage, and had managed to forgive the clan's trespasses against him. He knows of the growing discontent in the clan, enraged by their own losses, furious that their loved ones died when Madara had forged on in his attempts for revenge instead of accepting the numerous ceasefires offered. That rage had yet to fully simmer down, spurred on by horriboe rumors by the villages. However, Hikaku also understands his leader too because he had held Madara as he screamed and cried and wept tears of blood across the chilled corpse of his younger brother, and he'd been the one to drag the man away so the body could be burned. What had peace been to a grieving man?

Madara jolts up, his red eyes wide. His tomeo spins quick and deliberate. He raises his hand again, presses it against Hikaku's cheek, resting a thumb right under his eye, on the hollow dip of the bone there. 

"They don't understand-- not like you, Hikaku. I've asked, but they refuse to come with me. Loyalty is deserted in them, not like with you. You still love me, don't you?"

Hikaku doesn't hesitate. The words spill out like water from a broken glass, "Of course I love you." And he did, and it was one of the few things he inherited from his mother. Intense, unending  _ love  _ thst only Uchiha could ever hope to experience. It was like air in his lungs, blood in his veins, love was heavy and strong and everything. He loved him, even with this new madness. He could fix this, could fix  _ him _ . Hikaku just needed to calm him down, and go through what was happening inside his mind. 

"They won't come with me. But you will, won't you, Hikaku? You'll come with me?"

_ Come with? _

Hikaku tries to keep his voice steady, "Madara." He says softly. He places his hand on top of the older man's. His touch was burning hot against his flesh. "Madara, what do you mean come with?"

And that's when it finally hits him what he's looking at. He's been dipped in a river of ice, and he's finally being pulled out. Madara is exhausted, pale and lithe, with deep bruises beneath his eyes. He's held together by tight muscles and jerky motions and his eyes are  _ so so dark _ even in the brightness of the Sharingan and lost. And fond, almost, and he's smiling in unnatural desperation. 

"We can't stay here, isolated. Not with the Senju, not bowing to them. It isn't-- the Uchiha are going to  _ fall _ , Hikaku, and they're beginning to isolate all of us. But those traitors are too blinded by the peace that softens them to realize they're slowly boiling to death. They won't follow me, won't leave. But you've always been loyal. You can help me save them. All of them, even those damned, cursed Senju. We can be happy. All of us, the world." 

"What are you talking about?"

"I've got a plan, Hikaku. For a better world, a world we can be at peace in. Happy in. With Izuna. And Hashirama, and even that pale bastard. We can fix everything."

Hikaku is wise. He's quiet. He bites down the scream inside his chest.  _ I am happy. Was happy. Here with you _ . Instead, he lets pity flood him because this wasn't….wasn't Madara. This wasn't him, was it? It couldn't be. It couldn't--

"You and I." Madara continues on, not moving his hand. Just peering into Hikaku's eyes. "We can make a perfect world. Somewhere where all of this pain, this loss is gone."

It's madness. It's not a possibility. It's not anything but the ramblings of a confused man, but he looks so determined. Darkly so. It half terrifies him, but Hikaku isn't easily shaken, not with what he's seen in his life. He's seen true madness, seen Uchiha gouge out their own eyes while shrieking for ghosts of dead family members. What Madara's doing isn't terrible. Isn't unbearable for Hikaku.

But it doesn't process through his mind correctly. It's too sudden, too shocking.

"You're leaving then."

Madara stiffens. His grip on Hikaku's face, his jaw and bone, is bruisingly tight. His face morphs into disgusted, angry betrayal. He shakes his head, eyes shifting back and forth, red and black and--

" _I'm_ leaving?" Madara echoes. "So you aren't coming with me either, Hikaku? Even-- even you betray me?"

And a part of him wants to say  _ no _ . Absolutely not, he can't afford to leave. Hikaku has a duty to his clan, a role to assist in guiding and leading his family to the best of his abilities. He's been assigned by the Elders themselves, and he's bound to do right by his clan. If Madara leaves, if he's gone and leadership is up in the air for anyone to claim without a direct blood heir, Hikaku will be necessary to calm the chaos. He wants to refuse, to beg Madara to stop his madness and  _ stay _ in this village. It's safe here. They've got plenty here. It…

They could be happy here. (He had thought they were happy.)

And maybe, in another universe, another life, when Hikaku is asked that question, he  _ does  _ say no firmly and refuses his request. He stays loyal to his clan. He refuses Madara. But that is not here and not now. Because if Hikaku loved Madara just a little less, if he was just a touch  _ less _ loyal to the man, he might've been able to watch him drift away into whatever dreams he's come up with. 

But Hikaku is not in another place or time or life. He's here, right now, staring into Madara's desperate, furious eyes, and he can't bring himself to refuse him. He loves him, he wants to stay by his side, and he knows Madara will need him, will need somebody by his side. He's never been well on his own, and maybe it's selfish, but Hikaku doesn't want to be alone either. 

"Of course, I'm coming with you." He says, and it hurts and it aches. He's following a ghost. This isn't Uchiha Madara anymore. It isn't the man that he kissed by the Naka River right before battle, or the man he went with to the Festival in honor of the Ino-Shika-Cho joining the village, or the person that he held when Izuna was dying. It's something new and dangerous, and Hikaku doesn't know what changed. 

But he can't let go of that ghost, and it looks like Madara. And he's willing to chase after him if he has to. Hikaku's not strong, and he can't bring himself to tear his own heart out to let him go alone. 

Madara's smile is  _ familiar  _ now. It's painfully calm. It's almost like nothing has changed. 

"We'll leave in the morning." He tells him. 

Presses a kiss against Hikaku's lips just to seal the deal, and it's like fire in his veins, and he knows that he'll follow Madara anywhere. 

* * *


End file.
